


Chosen for Fate

by EmmaLockWrites



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, Feels, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Self Harm, implied hompohobia, implied rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 09:56:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4517496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaLockWrites/pseuds/EmmaLockWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a society where your soul mates are chosen for you, you are only given a name. The rest is up to you. Sometimes you find the one true love of your life in the world somewhere, but sometimes you don't. It's all a part of the game. And the game is on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Days

John 

 

A messy sandy haired John Watson wakes up on his 15th birthday filled not an instant happiness (as it is his birthday), but it is then crushed by a swelling anxiousness. "JOOOOOOHHHNN" he hears his mother say through the thin walls of his house. “Are you awaaaakkkeee?" 

"YES MUM!” He yells back as he stumbles out of bed. He knew he wasn't going to get anything special because his family was rather poor, but he knew to expect the one thing all new fifteen year olds got on their birthdays.

 

As he awkwardly tumbled down the beaten stairs with his rather built frame, he noticed the normal Saturday morning layouts. His sister Harriet no where to be seen, most likely passed out at some party. His step-father Richard drunk and out on the worn out plaid couch with a couple of beer bottles thrown around him, and then his mother in the kitchen looking worn out and tired as always, but still having a radiant and welcoming smile on her face. The only reason he had stuck around this long instead of going to the boarding school of Baskerville was to look after her. There was one thing different about this particular morning layout however, and it was a black box sitting stark out of place on the wooden dining table.

 

He knew what it was of course, every 15 year old gets one. 15 is the age, according to the government, that teenagers can start looking for their "significant others." [They are required to say significant others now because of a brief stint a couple years ago when two people chosen for each other turned out to be of the same gender. It's not widely accepted but it happens.]

He slowly walked over to the table to retrieve the black box so he wouldn't make a fuss. The richer people of society have lavish parties to celebrate this moment of growth but not the Watsons. When Harriet turned 15, she grabbed hers and just went straight back upstairs even though their mother had tried to celebrate. He nearly chuckled as he remembered his mother chasing Harriet up the stairs with balloons. As his fingers closed around the box, his mother kept cleaning the kitchen, understanding he didn't want to make a fuss and wake Richard. He swiftly grabbed the box and went to head back upstairs but not before he heard Richard mumble in his general direction.

"It better not be a damn boy."

 

John continued to head up the stairs but it soon turned into a run. He burst into his own bedroom and locked the door quickly. The 15 year old sat down on the bed and toyed with the box in his hands. He knew opening the box meant he was old enough to start searching for his life partner, but he didn't know if he was ready. "I could just open it another day" he mumbled to himself as he tore the box open. And there it was. A silver ring engraved with the name of who he was chosen to spend the rest of his life with once they found each other. He reached his fingers into the small box and pulled out the delicate silver ring to read the engraving on the band.

S-H-E-R-L-O-C-K

"Who in bloody hell names their child

Sher-lock?"

\----------//////////----------//////////

 

Sherlock

 

A mere couple days later on the weekend of the same week, another fifteen year old awoke with a mess of dark curls surrounding his face. He slowly sat upright, then groaned as he flopped back down remembering what day it was. 

"You can come in" he said with morning gruff still in his voice, as his mother, his brother Mycroft, and a couple staff walked into his room (who were obviously outside the door giggling) carrying a cake.

 

"Sure you didn't eat any, Mycroft?" the head of curls smirked.

 

"All for you, brother dear." The older red head sneered back. Then his mother walked over giving him a kiss on the forehead, "Happy fifteenth, sherlock"

 

The day was a whirlwind of party doings. A grand breakfast followed by him being shooed upstairs to change into his "entertaining appropriate outfit" which consisted of a suit and an uncomfortable necktie. People of high class, such as the Holmes family, hosted parties for their children to receive their life partner rings. Sherlock didn't care for it and rather hated the social interaction with his large extended family and his father's business partners who he was to be shown off to.

 

Sherlock was about to launch another insult at Mycroft who was by the buffet, when his mother climbed the center staircase and clinked her glass to signal for attention. Her soft and practiced voice then was projected over the crowd.

"Thank you for coming, all of you. We are here to celebrate my son Sherlock's fifteenth birthday." A small round of applause shifted through the room as Sherlock stood around uncomfortably. "And now, without farther delay, the whole reason we are throwing this party." She pulled a small black box out of her handbag. Sherlock took in a sharp breath as his thoughts whirled. Then he remembered his plan.

Sherlock crouched his lanky form down and took off at a fast pace along the edge of the crowd towards the staircase. He came to the base of the stairs as people started to notice him. Without hesitation he took the stairs two at a time and snatched the box from his mother's startled hands. But he kept going, all the way up the stairs and around the corner of the hall.

"Well that's one way to do it.” He heard his mother say ,laughing it off, as he jogged across the manor to his room.

He quickly shut the door and toyed with the box in his hands. He didn't want to say it publicly like Mycroft had done. That ended in disaster as his ring read the male name "Gregory." It had been the only time Sherlock had actually seen his poised brother with panic in his normally void expression. The party turned to chaos and even though his parents (more so his mother than his father) accepted it, Sherlock knew that if his was also a male his parents would be disappointed. So, he concluded, he would keep it a secret. Sherlock considered just leaving the box to be opened another day but "one look wouldn't hurt" He said audibly as he carefully removed the lid to reveal a sleek silver ring with 4 letters engraved in it.

J-O-H-N

Boring

 

AN: Bear with me, my early writings are awful. It gets at least a little better I promise.


	2. High School Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Chapter two whoopee. Just a little warning here that the end of Sherlock's part is kind of intense but it is at the very end. I'll put a little star or something there :) Enjoy!

JOHN

When John was getting ready to go to school that morning, he had 15 minutes to make a decision. Should he wear his ring or not wear his ring? Most of his mates do, well most of the school does in fact. There were a few chosen couples in the school that had already found each other, but he didn't know any Sherlocks. How would his friends react if they knew that he was chosen for.... A boy? He was pretty sure Sherlock was a boys name, but he could say it was a girls name. 

"John hurry the hell up I have to drive you now or you walk your sorry ass to school boy!" He heard Richard shout from down stairs.

"Coming," John squeaked out as he slipped the ring on his middle finger. He could always put it in his pocket.

When John walked up to Baskerville public school, he was instantly swarmed by all of his rugby mates. Most of them knew it was John's birthday that day, and if they didn't they were made aware when a very loud and off pitch chorus of "he's a jolly good fellow" erupted through them. When that was finally over John’s cheeks were blushing redder than a brick. Then, one of John's best friends (and Rugby captain) Greg Lestrade walked through the circle to hush everyone up.

"Alright, Alright!" The tall boy yelled chuckling. "Now the whole school knows it's John's birthday because of your awful singing. I'm looking at you Stamford!" Everyone chuckled and it was Stamford's turn to awkwardly blush. "But it's not just any birthday, it's John's fifteenth birthday!" Cheers erupted again. "So let's see it then. Who has been chosen worthy of our very own John Watson!?" The whole team went into cheers again as John cautiously held his hand out, realizing he could have just flipped everyone off if he wanted too but decided too late.

"OI! Who the hell names a kid sherlock?" Lestrade nearly yelled.

"That's exactly what I thought!" John yelled back. One of his other teammates then yelled "Hey Lestrade! Who is it? Is it a booooy?" A very dramatic "oooooo" went through the crowd. Lestrade turned back to John expecting an answer. "Sherlock," that name still felt weird on his tongue, "is a girl's name."

Greg looked at his friend with a curious look then the first bell rang and the boisterous group dispersed. "Come with me," the taller senior whispered in John's ear and led him behind the school.

"I'm going to be late to class Greg." John stammered as Greg lit up a cigarette. He knew John didn't want one, so he didn't offer.

"Greg liste-" John started. "It's a boy isn't it." Lestrade said quickly taking a long drag. John stared at his shoes and shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. 

"N-no" John whispered to himself more than anything. Greg took another long breath "Look John," The brunette took a step closer and held out his hand. John just then noticed that Lestrade always wore his ring name down, a blank silver shining upwards. As he turned it up with his other hand he saw a 7 letter engraving.

M-y-c-r-o-f-t

"You see we are in the same boat John. And it takes a while, but you get used to it. Seeing a name you don't know who belongs to. You can say it's a girls name, or a boys name, or just say it's a name. But, don't not look alright. This person is out there with a name a million other people in this country have. And if it's a boy who knows what kind of hell or bliss he is going through knowing that he has a boys name and a million to look through." He took another drag from his cigarette. "Hell what do they put in these things that was some deep motivational shit" He said with a smirk. The sandy haired boy finally looked up and chuckled, even though he wouldn't admit he was choked up at his friend’s words. They were just the things he needed to hear and no one in his family could provide them. In a way, Lestrade had always looked after John as if he was his brother. 

"Come on, let's get to class" Greg said and jokingly draped his arm over John's broad shoulders. "Who knows maybe we have an exchange student today with the name SHERLOCK!" The senior said sarcastically with a goofy grin. Now that made John laugh as he used his left hand to turn his silver chosen ring name down.

 

SHERLOCK

Sherlock's birthday was on the weekend so he had two agonizing days to mull over what to do on Monday. Most of the grade doesn't like him anyway, so would they even be surprised that his ring had the o-so-boring name John on it? He shrugged on his blazer that read, Appledore Boarding School, and slipped on his ring. No one would probably notice

Appledore Boarding School was for the "gifted" and "this generation's world changers" but to Sherlock everyone here was an idiot or a future criminal. He normally slept through all of his classes and he had a dorm room to himself, as no one would room with him. Charles Augustus Magnussen, the headmaster, was not keen with Sherlock and always found some sort of information to pressure Sherlock to behave with the other students. Sherlock detested him and hated how he pried on the students of well known families and got to their secrets, but there was nothing he could do about it for now. Maybe someday .....

But for now he had bigger problems, also known as Sally Donovan and Phillip Anderson blocking his way. He abruptly stopped on his heels as they stood in his way of getting into his dorm building. 

"So freak," Sally began, "heard it was your birthday over the weekend." She added with a sneer. It was obvious what was going to happen so Sherlock sped things along. "Obviously since I am now wearing the allotted chosen silver ring we all receive when we are 15 which I have no doubt you want to read soooooo." He stuck out his hand as the two juniors leaned in. Sally then burst out into ridiculous laughter. "Oh god he's stuck with John. JOHN! Oh god I can't breath!" She leaned against the wall holding her stomach. "Not only a boy, but a generic boring name!!" Now Anderson was also in fits of laughter as Sherlock stood awkwardly in the doorway analyzing them. He then quickly walked through as Sally and Anderson were in giggles on the floor pointing at him. "Oh and Sally," he said as he paused in the doorway. 

"Don't laugh too much, might not be good for the baby." He added with a smile and kept walking. He turned back long enough to hear the laughter abruptly stop, Sally looking at him mortified with wide eyes, while her fingers fiddled with the ring that read Phillip on her finger. Anderson looked at Sally wide eyed and expecting an answer. It was Sherlock's turn to snicker as he walked through to his room, 221B.

He opened the door and stopped, he didn't think he-

"Hello Sherly. Good to see you back my weekend was soooo boring" cooed a thick Irish accent.

"Moriarty, hello." Replied sherlock with caution as he put all of his mental barriers up. He didn’t even bother to ask how he got in for the 13th time. 

"Oh Sherly, I think you can call me Jim now a days. But quit stalling," he said as he flicked his finger in the air to add embellishment. "Let me see your "chosen partner” as they are saying now a days" said Jim with a sneer as he held his hand out expectantly. Sherlock stepped into the room and slowly lifted the hand with his chosen ring on it. Jim grabbed his wrist with more force than necessary and used his finger to trace the name engraved.

"Well, this John' person I'm sure is a fine fellow. Probably suits you, but you know something..." He sharply pulled Sherlock's wrist against him so they were standing nose to nose. Sherlock staring, eyes wide, and Jim staring back, eyes afire. Jim's voice suddenly became very dark and full of quick worlds.

"Listen here Sherlock, I OWN you. You got that? You are MINE. So don't you go off looking for this John fellow because if you find him I will get rid of him understand? I don't care what these stupid rings say you belong to me. Got that SHERLY?" Jim's gaze burned through Sherlock and everything he had prepared to say was set afire and turned to ashes in his head. Jim took Sherlock's blank terrified stare as something of an agreement. 

(insert star that I couldn't make)

"Good then" he cooed with a smirk and tilted his head up to Sherlock's. "Now sweetie," Jim said as he pushed a rigidly tense Sherlock onto the dorm bed behind them. "Just relax" he whispered into Sherlock's ear as he moved Sherlock's hands above his head. Sherlock's breaths were shallow as he put up his mind blocks and barriers; eyes becoming cloudy and distant. "Just relax" Moriarty cooed again sitting on the bed. Sherlock could feel his tormentors quick and hot breaths in his ear. "I'm sorry John" was the last thought through Sherlock's head before Jim's body was on top him and he plunged his mind into darkness.


	3. Lives Continue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! So I think I'm going to update every Sunday from here on in. (yes I know it's Monday) So thanks for reading and enjoy!

** John **

            Right after getting out of high school John enlisted in the army. There was nothing left for him at home. His "dad" had kicked him out a couple months prior to graduation after he found John's ring, and he had been crashing at Greg's [ now in college ] new flat. When he was walking around graduation, he was given a pamphlet describing army life and the many things you could do. He wanted to be a doctor anyway so why not an army doctor. 

"Doctor Watson. I quite like the sound of that." He said as he scored third highest in his class in medical school. Soon enough, he was to be deployed to Afghanistan three months later to be the medic of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. He was now on the bus fidgeting with his ring on his finger, twirling the silver band around and around and occasionally

looking down at the name he had seen so many times but never knew.

"Maybe a Sherlock will come on the bus. Maybe a Sherlock is in the army. Or maybe my Sherlock is a sexy doctor. Or maybe he's a terrorist. What if I have to kill him? What if he's NOT EVEN THERE WATSON GET A GRIP." His thoughts continued this pattern on the bus, to the airport, flying over the seas, and finally getting to his station.

He was introduced to a very interesting man whom he was too call Major Sholto. They both took a liking to each other almost instantly. After a brief introduction to his "new family" he got settled in to his barrack which was basically 12 bunks lined up nearly frame to frame in a very short room. On his bed sat a silver chain. 

"For your ring," the  major said from behind him. “,dangerous to where it on one's finger in battle. Keep it on the chain." John just nodded and slipped of his ring carefully so no one would see the name. He didn't need or want to repeat what happened with his rugby mates.

After two weeks wizzed by he was sent to the front lines because of his skills and his entire squad's skills. As he packed his bag and was about to head off Sholto stopped him at the door. 

 

"Watson," he said and paused looking down then looking back up at the young soldiers face, "be careful, a'right?" John just flashed a quick grin and placed his hand on his major's shoulder, "I'll try" he said and nodded then head out the door.

 

\--------- some time later ------------------

 

Bullets. That's all John really remembers of that one particular battle. So many, way too many for a medic to handle. He was a soldier yes, and he liked the danger yes, but doctor came first and there were too many people down to treat. He ran to the nearest and knelt down. Bandages, pain pill, repeat. Bandages, pain pill, repeat. Bandages, pain p-" the doctor fell backwards with a loud thump dazing his head. 

"What medic takes care of medic" he thought and almost giggled. "I'm shot, stop giggling" He winced as he arched his back to try and ease some of the pain. "Shoulder wound" he grunted as he moved his fingers towards it feeling the blood pool around his shoulders. The dust from the sand was getting into it causing irritation and for him to wince and writhe on the desert floor even more. He didn't realize the salty tears coming down his face. He didn't notice all of his friends dying around him. He didn't notice the enemy standing over him shouting questions. He barely took notice when the back-up came just in time. . He didn't register when he was out onto a stretcher and taken to a hospital. And he didn't realize the small dent in the ring that covered his heart, that caused the bullet to go slightly of corse.

 

** SHERLOCK **

 

After his boarding school days and nights Sherlock had almost immediately acquired the flat 221B on Baker Street. The landlady ,who obviously doubled as a housekeeper, was very kind and offered Sherlock a deal after he had helped her out with a "sensitive matter." He had been studying "ring magic" for the past few years, as Lord of the Rings as that sounded, in a last ditch effort to find out the very scarce information about the silver rings that decided their fate. His brother, who now works in that section of the, had refused to give him any details about who chooses and why. He suspected that they paired people who would better the society as a pair, but how did they know they would fall in love?  He had discovered temperature changes when distance is involved but not a lot of research had been done. So when unknown to him John was deployed (the government was supposed to send messages when "partners were sent overseas") Sherlock fell farther and farther into himself for every degree his ring became colder and colder.

Abandonment. That is all Sherlock felt. Deep down he knew it wasn't his fault and there had to be a probable explanation but all he could think of was "his" John leaving him. Where was he going? Why away? It was because he was male. He knew it. He knew it he knew it he knew it. John was leaving because he couldn't handle what never even was. He knew it. Another scratch. Another gash. More blood swirled down the drain of the shower as he sat and sobbed, hot water rushing over his dark damp curls.

The bullet hit Johns ring and the temperature of Sherlock’s hit zero. Sherlock couldn't take it. He took the silver band that held his only source of happiness off his finger breaking some of the intricate ice crystals that decorated his finger by now. He let out a deep sigh as he placed the ring on the table next to his bed and lied down. He didn't know what to think or do for that matter so he just lay there thinking about John. A man who didn't know who he was but left. Was he really that much of a freak? "ahhhhhgggg" Sherlock cried out into his mind palace as he locked the door from the inside.

He doesn't remember the first time he stole some of Mrs. Hudson's "herbal soothers" and smoked on the fire escape. He didn't remember falling asleep for days at a time just not having the strength to get up. He doesn't remember losing 20 lbs making his stomach cave in and his cheekbones protrude. He doesn't remember the first time he organized a deal and shot up for the first time. He only remembers the feeling it let him have. The cocaine slowly moving through his veins helping him forget. Forget what a freak he is. Forget about Moriarty and those years. Forget about his John leaving him. How could someone he didn't even know have this kind of effect on him? When did he let his emotions get the better of him and turn him into this mess?  With shaky hands and quivering tears more and more priks dotted his porcelain arms to match the scars.

John felt it. He couldn’t explain to his fellow soldiers why sometimes his wrists started to hurt or why he was so cold in the desert. He always felt the separation.  Every time.

  
  



End file.
